As the summary says, don't mind the II in the title. Ten years ago today I posted my very first fanfic, also titled Last One Out. Thought I was being cute today, but apparently ffn won't let you have two fics with the same title even if they're different fandoms.
"Ha… I don't want to let go…"
Asriel wasn't ready to say goodbye again. He needed more time. It had to be him that let go, though; Frisk was too kind to stop hugging him before he was ready. With a deep sigh, he gently pushed them away.
There were a thousand things he'd never do again. He'd never feel a soul inside him again, never have arms and legs or even fur again. He'd never hug again, much less hug a human.
Yes, he knew Frisk wasn't Chara, but, still, his heart mourned. This was the closest he'd been to Chara in a long time, and he would never be this close to them again.
Three months. That was how long the barrier had been down. Three months ago, he planted himself in the bed of golden flowers at the edge of the Ruins, and he had yet to move. This was the longest he'd gone without uprooting himself since he first became a flower, but three months wasn't that impressive. Chara had been planted here much longer.
The Underground was empty and quiet, but not completely silent. His hearing had been unnaturally good ever since he turned into a flower, and every monster took away some ambient noise when they left, leaving the remaining sounds easier to hear.
"C'mon!" a kid's voice chirped from inside a house, "Last one out's a big ol' doofus!" Her family was one of the last to leave the Underground, and their voices rang loud as church bells in the eerie quiet.
Her word choice made Flowey laugh, a weak, sick rattle through his stem. He'd heard this family banter before, and knew some relevant backstory: She only said "doofus" because she once got in trouble for saying "idiot."
"I'm not the doofus, you're the doofus!" her sibling hollered back as her footsteps pounded down the stairs. They didn't run after her. They were reluctant to leave the Underground—the only home they'd ever known—and had spent the whole day lingering.
Flowey was still laughing, but he wished these two were gone already. Listening to them reminded him of Chara. It seemed everything did, ever since Frisk showed up. He still couldn't wrap his head around Frisk, how someone who looked so much like Chara was so different from them. He'd watched Frisk die a hundred times, but Chara…
He spent his days straining his hearing in the empty quiet, seeking out distant sounds to break up the monotony: The gentle patter of raindrops in Waterfall, a random hiss of steam somewhere in Hotland, and, at the far edge of New Home… footsteps?
He hadn't heard footsteps in weeks. Everyone was gone, had been long enough to come back and get anything they left behind. It wasn't like anyone would come back for old times' sake either; monsters hated this place. This had to be an illusion, some other noise that only sounded like footsteps.
But that was stupid. For weeks he'd had nothing to listen to but the boring silence left behind by the monster exodus and the inside of his own head. He knew every sound the empty Underground had to offer, and "kind of like footsteps" wasn't one of them. Those were footsteps, and they were getting closer.
They'd traversed the smooth pavement of New Home and now echoed on the metal flooring of the Core, heading toward Hotland. Only took one elevator ride to cross most of that territory.
Could be a human, he supposed, someone curious about that empty hole all those monsters crawled out of. The footsteps weren't exploring, though. They paused now and then, but never for long, and they kept getting closer—no backtracking. They knew where they were going.
Squishing through a swampy swathe of Waterfall now, making no effort to stay out of the muck. Could be wearing boots. Could just not care.
Could be Frisk. They were reluctant to leave him behind, after all. Maybe they came back to try to fix him the way they fixed everyone else. Ugh. What if they wanted to try to reunite him with his parents?
Crunch-crunch-crunch through the snow at the outskirts of Snowdin Town…
Wait.
What if Frisk already had tried to reunite him with his parents?
Flowey shuddered and tensed like he'd had his roots dunked in ice water.
What if Mo—Toriel or Asgore was coming to meet him?
The footsteps picked along a gravel-covered path through the Ruins. Still getting closer.
Hide-n-seek was his least favorite game even before the day he found Chara. It was too scary! Hiding was bad—trying not to breathe too loud even though your heart was pounding, waiting for someone to burst in on you—but seeking was worse. It cast suspicion on every dark corner, turned familiar hallways into nightmare corridors. It was the worst, knowing someone might jump out at you at any second…
Playing it with Chara was ten times worse than playing it with anyone else. They were way too good at sneaking up on him—he never heard them coming! And when they found him—or, worse, when he found them—they always wore their creepy face. They thought scaring him was funny. When they played this game, he never failed to make them laugh.
The footsteps were just around the corner, coming up the path. Whoever they were, they'd be here soon. Flowey's roots squirmed deeper into the earth, ready to pull his whole body under at a second's notice. But he wouldn't let himself run and hide yet. He needed to at least see who it was.
His visitor finally stepped into view. Flowey blinked.
"You?"
The visitor tilted his skull.
"Um… yes." He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "It is I, The Great Papyrus!"
"Hey Papyrus, guess what?"
"What, flower?"
"You're my best friend in the whole Underground!"
"Really?!"
This game was dumb, yet undeniably funny. Papyrus's whole little skull lit up, only for delicious bewilderment to seep into those big puppy eyes. Flowey's ring of bullets chomped his head off like a giant mouth.
Like many times before, that one hit was all it took. This time caught Papyrus so off-guard, he didn't get the chance to tell Flowey he still believed in him. He was probably still thinking it, though.
"Really," Flowey told the pile of dust with a smirk.
"Papyrus…"
"Yes?"
"Why?"
"…why what?"
"Why would you come back here?"
"Oh! Why, isn't it obvious? I've missed my flower friend! I was also worried you might be lonely, being the last one left underground. Would you like some company?"
Considering the alternative was more boredom and mind-numbing silence, yes. And yet…
"No."
"Now now, there's no need to put on a 'tough guy' façade for me. I, The Great Papyrus, know better than to judge someone for feeling blue." He sank to the ground and sat cross-legged, beaming like he'd been looking forward to this for weeks.
Flowey scowled. Bad enough he'd ignored his wish to be left alone, but who told him he could sit himself down like that? It wouldn't matter anywhere else in the Underground, but, here… The bony buffoon was right on top of Chara's grave, mere feet above the first human's own bones. Sure, Flowey could uproot, tell Papyrus he wanted to talk somewhere else, but he didn't want to let go of this spot. It'd been a good idea, planting himself on Chara's grave and letting his roots mingle with their remains. It was the closest he'd ever get to being buried with them.
"You look perturbed," said Papyrus, "Is something on your mind?"
Ha, you could say that. He wanted to pull himself under the dirt right then and wait for Papyrus to leave, but…
"Pl-please, friend! It doesn't have to be this way! You ca—aaaah! …ngh… …y-you can do better…"
Watching him go down in one hit got boring, so now Flowey was studying ways to draw it out. He could make him last a whole day now.
"Maybe I don't want to 'do better,' 'friend.'"
"Just let me help you…"
…he was bored. He could talk to Papyrus a bit. He wanted to figure out what he was really doing here, at least. Even as relentlessly friendly as Papyrus was…
"Do you really expect me to believe you came all the way down here just to keep me company?"
"Um. Yes? Why is that difficult to believe?"
"We're not friends, Papyrus."
"Yes we are!"
"No, we're not."
"But why wouldn't we be?!"
"Why—are you kidding?!"
This question earned Flowey a perfectly blank look.
"I get some of you monsters are fuzzy on what happened before I—before Frisk broke the barrier, but you were there. You do remember the part where I was gonna kill you, right? The part where I took all your souls?"
"I do remember." Papyrus's shoulders slumped, only to immediately straighten. "But you clearly gave them back!"
"So, what, that makes it okay?"
"Well, no. Stealing souls is wrong. But that doesn't make giving them back any less right!"
That was so stupid you couldn't argue with it. Flowey rolled his eyes. What else did he expect from Papyrus?
"Fine, so I did a good thing after I did the bad thing. Yippee. Is that why you came here? To tell me I did a good?"
"You did do a good! But I really did want to check in on you, friend—"
"We're still not friends."
"—and I also wanted to ask you a question."
Okay, now they were getting somewhere.
"Oh yeah? Ask away, then. Maybe I'll answer, if you're good."
Papyrus smiled, unfazed.
"Okay, then! Flowey, you've been down here for quite some time now, even though the barrier is gone forever. Have you ever considered coming to the Surface?"
Was that it? So much for the conversation going somewhere interesting.
"No."
"Oh. Why not?"
"Because I don't wanna."
"Are you sure?"
"Ye—"
"I mean, are you really sure? I've missed you up there, and, from what I've heard, you might like sunlight a lot if you gave it a try!"
"I—wait, what do you mean 'from what you've heard'?"
"Frisk has been learning about photosynthesis in school."
"Oh. Sure." Fair enough. "Does Frisk know you're here?"
"No. But I'm sure they miss you too!"
Flowey snorted, but, come to think of it, they probably did, the little doofus.
"Does Sans know you're here?"
"No. No one does." Interesting.
Flowey's mind churned with ways to take advantage of that information. He could teach his favorite suicidal comic a lesson about letting his precious baby brother wander off… but no. Now was no time to indulge old habits. Even though Frisk was gone, Flowey still couldn't reset. Killing off the Flowey Fan Club one last time might be kind of funny, but he also might come to regret it. Permanently.
"Well, 'friend,' looks like it's just you and me left now. Golly, I'd sure be lonely without you!"
He was only teasing. He was sure this time Papyrus wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. Papyrus knew who killed everyone. Flowey made sure he got to watch every last one of them turn to dust, starting with that sack of trash brother of his.
"There, there must be a reason…" the skeleton whispered. His voice was hoarse and ragged from hours of screaming, crying, and pleading. The thick vines that held him in place to watch the show finally loosened, and he dropped to the ground, falling to his knees.
Flowey chuckled.
"Of course there is! Don't'cha know? In this world, it's kill or be killed." The air was alive with bullets, swarming like locusts. "Which one are you gonna choose, 'friend'?"
Papyrus got to his feet, and Flowey trembled with anticipation. He'd fought Papyrus before, but it'd never been a real fight. Papyrus always pulled his punches after a certain point. He wasn't exactly a pacifist, but he wasn't a killer either. He could never muster the necessary hate, no matter how much fear or pain or anger he felt. But this time…
"Neither. End this."
"…what?"
Combat was initiated, and it was Papyrus's turn, but no bones came. Not only was he refusing to kill, he was refusing to fight altogether. Flowey couldn't understand. Did he think they were still friends?
"I don't know what put you on this dark path, flower, but more death won't bring you back to the straight and narrow." The look on his skull was sad and stern. No puppy eyes right now, but not the barest hint of animosity either.
Flowey let his turn pass without hitting Papyrus. He wanted a fight, damn it, not another one-hit kill. Why couldn't Papyrus play the game right, like his brother?
"Papyrus, I don't think you understand what's happening here. Fight back or I will kill you."
"You don't want to do that."
"Oh yeah? And why not?"
"You said it yourself: It's only you and me now. No one wants to be alone."
Papyrus let his turn pass without attacking again. Now it was Flowey's turn. Time to end this.
Flowey reset. He was tired of this run.
"Friend?" said Papyrus, bringing Flowey back to the present.
"Still not your friend, Papyrus. Never was."
"Nonsense! Anyway, if you're not ready to come to the Surface yet, that's okay, but as your friend I really must—"
"How many times do I have to say this before it penetrates your freakishly thick skull? I am not your friend. I never was your friend: I. Was. Using. You."
"Oh. I see. In that case… was I… useful?"
He wanted him to say yes, didn't he? Flowey sighed. Whatever.
"Yeah, you were."
"Oh, good! Though I suppose it's no surprise: The Great Papyrus never disappoints!"
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway," Papyrus restarted, "If you're not ready to come to the Surface now, I suppose I can always come back later and—"
"Gonna stop you right there, 'pal.' I'm never going to the Surface."
"Oh, never say never! Just because you're scared right now—"
"I'm not scared!"
"It's nothing to be ashamed of! The Surface can be quite intimidating, especially when you've never been there before."
Flowey chuckled bitterly.
"That's not what my problem is, trust me."
"Then what is the problem? Perhaps I can help!"
"It's…" How to explain? No, wait, better question: What kind of lie would get Papyrus to back off already?
"A long story?"
"What?"
"You looked like you were about to say: 'It's a long story.'"
"It is, I guess." Maybe that would do.
"Good!"
"Good?"
"Sans says I'm very good at listening to stories."
"I'll bet he does. This isn't a bedtime story, okay?"
"Stories aren't just for bedtime."
"Yeah…"
Hm. Papyrus was too young to remember anything about the first human, wasn't he? To him, Chara would be nothing more than a half-remembered history lesson. The case may be that, given all the clues, he still wouldn't put two and two together. As long as Flowey kept it vague, this conversation might go somewhere interesting after all.
"Alright. You wanna hear a story?"
Papyrus nodded, hugging his knees to his ribs.
God, why was he doing this? Three months since the barrier went down and he was already this bored? Then… screw it. If he wound up with regrets, he could always kill Papyrus later. True, if he did that he couldn't take it back, but, if he wound up facing permanent consequences, then maybe it was time to finally swallow that pill.
"Well guess what, pal? I'll do you one better: I'll tell you a secret. But you know what that means, right? You gotta promise not to tell anyone else. Not Sans, not Frisk, nobody, got it?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I won't tell!"
"No, say you promise."
"I… promise I won't tell anyone, no matter what it is." The words came out slow and solemn. Like his brother, Papyrus didn't make promises lightly.
That settled, the skeleton leaned in anxiously, eyes wide and curious. He was as excited to hear Flowey's secret as a little kid at a slumber party, the clown. Then again, Flowey was the one who started them down this secret-sharing road. Maybe they were both childish.
"Good. Here goes nothing, then: I wasn't always a flower."
"Really? What were you before?"
"I was a monster, just like you. A kid, actually. With a mom, and a dad, and then, one day…"
For now, he stuck to the happy parts. He talked about those first few nights after bringing Chara home. Chara slept in his bed while he slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was like a sleepover every night! (Papyrus was amicably jealous of this detail.) The two of them stayed up late those first nights, even though Chara was supposed to be resting and recovering. They left the lights off so they wouldn't get in trouble and whispered secrets to each other in the dark.
"What kind of secrets?" Papyrus asked.
"Huh? Oh, you know, just stupid kid stuff."
"Chara, can I ask you something serious? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. And if you tell me, I promise not to tell anyone else! But… it's just… on the Surface, they say those who climb Mount Ebott never return, right? So, why did you…?"
They were hesitant to answer. Some secrets came with a price. If they told him, he wouldn't see them the same way everyone else did anymore. He'd never see them the same way again, and they couldn't take it back.
They told him anyway. He had trouble falling asleep after.
"So once they got better, they still had nowhere to go, and me and my parents didn't want them to get hurt again, so…"
"They became your sibling?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean, my parents became their parents. I never really thought of myself as their brother, though, y'know? They were better than a sibling: They were my best friend!"
Papyrus didn't look like he understood this reasoning, but he didn't question it either. Flowey moved on, and kept sticking to the happy parts. He told Papyrus about games they used to play and toys they used to share. He told him about birthday pies and rainy-day tea parties and long afternoons spent playing pretend.
One time he and Chara pretended to be daring knights, beating up bad guys all across the land. When their story needed more drama, Chara decided to get "wounded" in battle: A head injury that left them with amnesia. That meant it was his job to fill them in on their rich knightly backstory (mostly made up on the spot) so they could keep fighting. The bit ran longer than he expected, and he eventually complained:
"I don't like this anymore, Chara! Can't you 'get healed' and go back to normal already?"
"Nope. All my memories are gone forever."
They looked so weirdly happy, like the "lost memories" were so much worthless garbage.
He went on way longer than he would've expected; turned out Papyrus really was a good listener. Or maybe Flowey missed having someone to talk to more than he realized.
Maybe he kept coming up with more happy parts to tell Papyrus so he'd never get to the sad part. A foolish game. Petals drooping, Flowey forced himself to get to the point:
"One day, they got sick. So sick they couldn't get out of bed unless someone carried them. Mom did the best she could with her healing magic, but they weren't getting any better. Dad cried a lot."
He couldn't stop there, but he couldn't make himself say the next part either. The quiet held until Papyrus broke it:
"And then what happened?" he asked, voice trembling.
"They died. Then, I died too."
"You died?"
"Yeah. My dust scattered over my father's garden."
Papyrus's eyes were wide, and a couple of tears shimmered at the bottoms of his sockets.
"And then, a while later, I woke up. I was still in the garden. My body was gone, and so was my soul. I'd turned into… this."
"A golden flower…"
"Yep. Don't ask me why."
"…in your father's garden…" Weird detail to latch onto.
"Since I came back as a flower, you'd think my best friend would too, wouldn't ya? But I was alone. They stayed gone. This place…"
Deep beneath the soil, his roots gently embraced Chara's brittle skull.
"…is all I have left of them. If I left it behind, it'd be like losing them forever. So I'm never leaving."
Papyrus gazed at him with a thoughtful expression—rare for that usually-vacant skull.
"Your highness?"
Huh. He'd underestimated Papyrus's intelligence. How did that happen?
"Don't call me that."
Flowey's stem twisted in a way that didn't work anymore, a reflexive reset attempt. What was he thinking, letting so much of his secret out? He was an idiot, acting like so long as he didn't drop any names, the secret would stay secret. Well, it didn't, and some secrets came with a price…
"My friend," Papyrus restarted, "You said this was a secret. Your parents still don't know?"
"They don't. And we're keeping it that way, got it?"
"I will not break my promise, but… you must tell me why!"
"Telling them what happened doesn't help. Wouldn't help, I mean. Their son's soul is still gone." He sighed. Even in timelines where they knew, no one felt that absence as much as he did. "What's left behind is nothing but a painful reminder of what's missing. Trust me."
Papyrus tilted his skull, sad and confused. Flowey knew that look well; countless times it'd been his last.
"If you truly believe it would do them more harm than good, then I suppose I cannot ask you to tell them. But what you claim is simply untrue! What is 'left behind' is much more than a reminder—you are much more than mere memory!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes! You are my friend!"
"I'm not. We went over this."
"Perhaps I was never your friend, and for that I am sorry. Someday I will make it up to you! But, nonetheless, you have been my friend for a long time, and nothing you've told me changes that."
"Whatever," Flowey muttered.
"No!" Papyrus cried, so loudly Flowey flinched, "Not 'whatever'! You were there for me at times I otherwise would've spent alone!"
Yeah, because it was a lot easier to con him when he was by himself.
"You helped me more times than I can count with your flawless predictions!"
True, but hardly impressive when you considered his unfair advantage there.
"You encouraged me to keep trying when others had nothing nice to say about my efforts!"
Mostly for the comedic value.
"You made a terrible mistake when you decided to take those souls, yes, but you didn't let your pride keep you from returning them! You are quite a great friend, and a friend so great deserves friendship of equal power in return!"
Flowey rolled his eyes, but didn't bother arguing.
"I hope to be such a friend to you one day, but…" His skull bowed. "…I also know your best friend left a terrible void when they died, one even I could never fill."
Damn right. Flowey was impressed by this level of awareness from Papyrus. The skeleton went on:
"It's not fair that they left you behind."
That was childish, but Flowey couldn't bring himself to disagree. It wasn't fair. They were supposed to be best friends forever. They were supposed to be inseparable. When Chara died, he took their soul into his body and was prepared to keep it there for the rest of his life. Hell, he did.
But then his dust settled over the garden, while Chara's body got packed away in a box.
"Chara?" he whispered in the garden. It was the middle of the night, and Dad was asleep. "Are you there? It's me, your best friend…"
Their body wasn't here. It was a crazy thought, but part of him hoped that meant they turned into a flower too.
But that would make even less sense than him turning into a flower, wouldn't it? Chara didn't have to be a flower to have determination. They were human, so they were supposed to have it already. It wasn't fair. Between the two of them, if one had to come back while one had to stay dead, the dead one should've been…
"Life isn't fair sometimes."
Flowey didn't register what Papyrus said at first. Then the words filtered into his mind and he was sure he'd misheard. That wasn't the kind of thing Papyrus said. That wasn't the kind of thing Papyrus believed.
"Sometimes," Papyrus continued, voice quiet and flat, "People go away and don't come back, and there's nothing you can do about it."
He had an expression on his skull Flowey had never seen there before, and it reminded him of…
—ter had a cracked skull, a solemn voice, and long, ivory fingers that danced through the air when he gave Dad his daily progress report on the Core. Sometimes he showed him his blueprints, and Dad pretended to understand them, even th—
…no one. It didn't remind him of anyone.
"It's not fair at all that your best friend left you behind." That eerie expression was gone, and Papyrus sounded like himself again, if still more serious than usual. "But, you must know, you are far too great a friend to ever leave them behind. I imagine they would be quite moved, to know that after losing everything else, you still kept every single memory of them."
"Not like I had much of a choice." If he had, it would've been nice to get rid of all these worthless memories, all this useless pain.
Ha. Who was he kidding? He'd clung to their body, he'd clung to their soul, and, choice or no, he'd cling to their memories too.
"Don't be silly! You've preserved them far better than anyone else possibly could. I'm proud of you for showing such loyalty! Still, you must understand: These memories lie with you, not this location. Staying underground will bring them no closer."
"You know, it's kind of funny," he whispered in the dark, voice trembling, after both their parents went to bed. It was really late; Mom and Dad both stayed awake as long as they could without passing out. He didn't know if Chara was out too. Their breathing was labored and uneven, but they'd sounded like that all day, and all day they'd drifted in and out of consciousness. He didn't think he'd get any sleep tonight himself.
His bed was mere feet away, but he'd set up a sleeping bag right next to theirs, a mirror image of the setup from their first nights in the Underground. Fitting, since these would be their last. The setup was Chara's idea. This way, no matter how long it took, he'd be right by their side when the time came, ready to snatch up their soul.
"It's funny," he repeated, though he wasn't laughing, "It used to be I was the one that wanted to go to the Surface. You kept telling me it was rotten up there. Now you're trying real hard to get back, and I'm the one that…" No, this wasn't funny at all.
A wet cough from the darkness above made him flinch. It was followed by a sound half comfort and half torment: Chara's laugh. A weak, sick, rattle in their chest, but unmistakable.
"St-stay determined…" they whispered back.
"Funny…" Flowey murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Alright, but, please friend, tell me you'll reconsider. You don't have to say yes now, but at least promise you won't say no forever?"
"Why do you care? You can't miss me that much." Seeing Papyrus about to argue, Flowey added, "And if you do, then why not just come visit again?" Wait, why the hell would he tell Papyrus he could visit again? He didn't want this visit! …which meant he spent the whole afternoon spilling his guts about Chara for what, fun? Damn it, what was wrong with him today?
"But that would mean leaving you alone the rest of the time! I can't do that to my friend! No one wants to be alone."
Once again, Flowey found himself unable to argue. Life wasn't fair sometimes.
"Look, Papyrus, I'm not going to say yes today, got it? …but, maybe… that doesn't mean no forever." Ugh. Whatever this thing with him today was, he hoped it passed soon.
"Oh, goody! In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help you make up your mind?"
"Yeah. Leave."
"…oh." Hello, puppy eyes.
"…and come back later. I just… need some time by myself right now, okay?"
"If you're sure…"
He was, though he couldn't say what he needed the time for. Maybe he needed time to compose himself, to make sure Papyrus wouldn't get all this weird emotional gushing out of him next time they met. Maybe he needed time to figure out why he didn't kill Papyrus after all when the conversation went south, why the idea of doing it now made him queasy.
Or maybe—maybe—he needed time to linger, to finally say goodbye.